


from your downward darting kiss

by empressearwig



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Reconciliation, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:09:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/pseuds/empressearwig
Summary: Making up is hard to do.





	from your downward darting kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inlovewithnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/gifts).



"Welcome to Literature and War," said Professor Irving, as he began passing a stack of the syllabus around the large conference table. "I'm glad to have you all in my seminar this semester."

Walter Blythe looked around the room, surveying his classmates. Most of the people in this class he recognized on sight; the English department at Ingleside College was nothing if not insular once you got past intro classes and Professor Irving was a popular teacher. There was one face that didn't belong at the table, though, despite the fact that Walter knew him well. Or maybe it was _had_ known him well. Walter didn't like to think about the difference.

He took a syllabus from the top of the stack and passed it to his right. Professor Irving was talking again, and Walter tried to make himself listen, but it was hard with him sitting right there, across from Walter and acting as though he didn't even notice Walter was in the room.

"You'll be doing a semester long project," said Professor Irving. "I've taken the liberty of assigning partners, though obviously I will make adjustments if anyone drops this class." He looked at them all sternly. "I don't want to do that, understand?"

They all chorused their agreement, and another stack of paper was passed around the class.

Walter looked at the list.

Kenneth Ford.

This was going to be a very long semester.

*

Ken Ford didn't know why he hadn't guessed that Walter would be in this class. He knew--despite doing all he could to not know--that Walter was an English major, and he'd always known that Walter was interested in the first World War. Of course he would sign up for a class like this, and of course when Ken tried to step outside his own economic major and explore other interests, he'd see the person that he had spent the last three years trying to avoid.

Ken knew he was blessed with many gifts. He had a great family. He was a good enough athlete to be captain of the hockey team. He'd inherited his father's good looks.

But right now, in this moment, it felt an awful lot like the universe was out to get him.

His sister, Persis, would say he was due.

The rest of the class passed in a blur. Ken kept quiet, which was easy enough to do in a class full of people who'd been having these kind of classes together for years. He'd have to do better in the next class, though. Participation was a big chunk of the grade on the syllabus and Professor Irving had been skeptical enough when Ken asked for permission to join the class in the first place. He wasn't going to let the dumb jock label stick.

After, Ken hung back as everyone else scurried out of the room, making plans to meet up to start working on their projects. He wanted to get this over with, and if he could make Walter be the one to tell Professor Irving that they needed new partners, so much the better.

And sure enough, Walter was slow to leave, too, and when the room was empty, he made a beeline for Professor Irving, who was packing up his own bag. "Excuse me," he said, sounding more flustered than Ken thought he'd ever heard him. "Do you have a--"

"Walter!" said Professor Irving. "How's your mother?"

"She's doing well. She says hello," Walter said. "Can we talk about--"

Professor Irving spotted Ken lurking in the back of the classroom. "Oh, good, you stuck around. Walter, do you know Ken?"

Ken waited, curious as to what he'd say. 

Walter's smile was tight. "I do, actually. Our mothers were college friends."

"That's great!" said Professor Irving. "I matched you two up especially, since English isn't Ken's department. I think you'll do well together, especially with Ken's history minor to help you on the historical context." He looked at his watch. "Sorry, I have to run. I have another class starting in twenty minutes. Let me know if you two need any help."

Well, that seemed to be a definitive no on the changing partners thing. Ken waited until Professor Irving left the room, and then looked across the room.

"Hello, Walter."

*

It had been three years since Walter had heard Ken say his name. He'd have been fine with it taking another thirty.

Three years wasn't enough time to get over the first boy you'd ever kissed breaking up with you to hide in the closet. That they'd ended up at the same college, let alone partners in the same class, was a cruel twist of scholarship offers and being one of six kids. He hadn't been able to turn down the free ride, no matter how much he'd wanted to.

But that was all the past. The present was Ken looking at him expectantly, and Walter wasn't a coward.

"Ken," Walter said, with a nod. There, he'd done it. 

"We should catch up," Ken said. "It's been--"

"Let's make this clear," Walter interrupted. He wasn't going to let Ken get away with pretending that they were just old friends who hadn't spoken in years. There were reasons for that. Big ones. "I'm not interested in catching up, or rehashing the past. All I want to do is get an A on this project, and then go back to pretending you don't exist. Understood?"

Ken's jaw went tight, and he nodded, once. "Sure. If that's the way you want it."

"It is," said Walter. "I'll email you about setting up a schedule for project meetings. Start trying to come up with ideas, please."

"Of course," said Ken. "Whatever else you think of me, you know I'm going to pull my weight here, Walter. I always have."

He was right. "I'm sorry for insinuating otherwise."

Ken sighed, looking frustrated. "I don't want your apology. Look, are you sure--"

"I have to go," Walter blurted out, not willing to hear the last part of that question leave Ken's mouth. Because if it did, and Ken did want to catch up, he'd want to do that too and that would be the absolute worst thing for him. "Lots of reading to do. Far away from here."

"Fine. Go."

Walter went, not even caring that it was like he had been waiting for Ken's permission. Strategic retreats were important, regardless of cause.

Live to fight another day. That's all that mattered.

*

Ken went to the library. He'd have preferred a nice long hockey practice where he got to hit things, but practice hadn't started for the season yet and he wasn't meeting up with his teammates to work out until later. And this way, at least Walter couldn't say he was slacking on their project.

He headed for one of the creepy study carrels in the old part of the library, instead of the long tables where most people went when they wanted to both study and to be seen. Ken had learned freshman year that if he wanted to keep his grades up, that didn't work for him. 

He pulled out his laptop and his copy of the syllabus. He skimmed through the book list and the grading rubric until he found the project description. They had to pick a time period, and a type of literature, and do a survey of the common themes.

Well. That was easy enough to predict. They'd be covering the first World War and they'd be doing a poetry survey. Ken might not be a huge poetry person, but they'd always had their fascination with that time period in common. He remembered being kids and them raiding his father's research library to look at battle maps.

He'd always been preoccupied with troop movements. Walter had read everything he could on the Lusitania. He thought about soldiers. Walter thought about civilians.

Different takes on the same subject. 

It was too bad that they hadn't understood each other so well when it came to them.

Walter had never understood why Ken wanted to keep his bisexuality to himself. Why, in a locker room of men who hadn't known him his entire life, he'd want to keep that private. For Walter, it wasn't enough that he and Ken know how they felt about each other. The world had to know, or it didn't count.

Ken didn't begrudge Walter for not wanting to hide who he was, not really. He knew how long it had taken him to be comfortable in his own skin, to come out to his family and to his friends. 

But he didn't understand why Walter had to hate him so much. Why he couldn't respect that this was Ken's choice.

He wondered if Walter would understand if he told him that he'd make a different choice now. That three years was a long time. He wondered if Walter would care.

Maybe this project would help heal those wounds, even if it seemed like Walter was content to let them fester.

But first he had to prove that he was going to be there. That he could be trusted with this, even if he couldn't be trusted with Walter himself.

Ken logged on to the library website and started placing holds. It was a place to start.

*

Ken was… not a terrible partner, Walter was forced to admit.

For two months, he was completely accommodating, willing to meet whenever Walter wanted and putting in his fair share of the work. He did all of this despite the fact that his practice schedule for hockey was ramping up and it wasn't like he was in one of the easy majors that athletes were steered towards. He had good ideas, and Walter didn't doubt that they'd turn in a better completed project together than they would have on their own.

And he didn't push. 

He abided by the boundaries that Walter had set about their relationship, that they wouldn't look back and that they wouldn't pretend like they had one now. He was so carefully indifferent that it was driving Walter crazy. 

Except he wasn't indifferent, not when he didn't think Walter was looking. Ken had a way of looking at people, and Walter had never forgotten it.

When he looked at you like that, you never wanted him to stop. 

Walter wasn't immune.

And he remembered why, before everything, they'd been such good friends. Something about their totally different natures just clicked. Ken was popular and outgoing, and none of that came naturally to Walter. Oh, he was well liked, but so much of that was because he was Jem Blythe's younger brother or Di and Nan's older brother. People liked him once they knew him, but he wouldn't have been known without them. And Walter let Ken be quiet, not the star athlete that always had to be on, but the smart, curious _nerd_ he was too.

They worked together too well. And it was starting to drive Walter a little crazy.

They were meeting at Ken's apartment, because too many people interrupted them at the library and the lounge in Walter's dorm was too crowded. Walter had been hesitant in agreeing to the location, but there wasn't a better option and they had a midterm update to present at their next seminar meeting, Besides, if he couldn't trust himself alone with Ken than he was in even bigger trouble than he thought.

They worked for a solid two hours before Ken's stomach dictated a break. 

Ken stood up, cracking his neck. "Pizza okay?"

"Sure," Walter said, doing his best not to notice Ken's shirt riding up as he stretched. "That's fine."

Ken looked at him, like he was weighing whether to ask Walter something. Then he shook his head and asked, "You still like sausage and mushroom?"

"Yes," Walter said. 

He didn't say, _you remembered_. He wanted to.

Ken called the pizza place and made the order. "You want a beer?" he asked, when he was done. "I have…well, water if you don't. And almond milk, but I don't really think that goes with pizza."

"A beer would be good," Walter said. He was fairly sure that a beer was a terrible idea, but it was turning out that when it came to Ken, he didn't always make the best decisions. "Thanks."

Ken shrugged and sat back down next to him. "You don't have to thank me for shit like that. I wish you wouldn't."

"Sorry."

"I don't want you to apologize either." Ken ran his hand through his hair, and it stayed standing up. Walter wanted to reach over and smooth it down. "Can't you, I don't know, pretend we've known each other since we were kids for the night? Please?"

Walter winced, and took a drink of his beer. It was really amazing Ken had lasted this long. It was a stupid thing to have asked him to try.

"I can try," he said, and he saw Ken visibly relax. "How's practice?"

Ken snorted. "You don't care, but I'll take it. Good. Our first game is next week." He looked sideways at Walter. "Want to come?"

"Ah, no."

"You never did like hockey much," Ken said. 

"Too many mornings forced to be at the rink watching Jem and Di practice," he said. "I don't know how my mom stood it."

"Are you sure you're Canadian?" 

Walter laughed and took another drink. "I'm the one who looks nothing like the rest of my siblings, so maybe you'd be better off asking my parents that question."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you're a Blythe," Ken said. "Besides, you're the only one who likes to write like your mom. That had to have come from somewhere."

"She likes to think so, at least," said Walter. He hesitated. "I told her we were working on this together. She was really happy."

"I suspect the mothers have talked," Ken said. "Mine was too."

They looked at each other and laughed, and it was exactly like three years had never passed. 

Ken looked at him. He looked at Ken. 

His heart beat faster. 

Ken leaned in. Walter met him.

Their lips met, brushed. 

They brushed again. And again. And again.

His mouth opened, and Ken took full advantage. Tongues touched; advanced, retreated. Kisses started, stopped, continued. They kissed, and they kissed, and it felt like it went on forever. 

There was a knock on the door.

They didn't stop kissing.

Someone pounded on the door and Ken pulled back.

"The pizza," he said, sounding strangled and looking well kissed. "I have to get the door."

Walter just nodded, and he walked Ken walk away, trying to hide the evidence of what they'd been doing and the effect it had had on them both. Ken paid the delivery guy and came back to the couch, dropping the pizza on the coffee table.

He sat back down. He looked at Walter. "So."

That was about all Walter could come up with himself. His brain was fried. But he tried. "We shouldn't do that again."

Ken's face fell. 

" _No_ ," said Walter, and he reached out for Ken's hand. "We should do that again. But maybe--maybe we should talk first?"

Ken nodded, looking at their linked hands. "Talking, huh?"

Walter's laugh was strangled. "We didn't talk for three years. There was a reason."

"There was," Ken said. "But first--pizza?"

"I like pizza," Walter said. He squeezed Ken's hand. "And I like you."

"It's a start," Ken said.

He opened the box and they ate pizza.


End file.
